Live Like We're Dying
by FearlesslyCrazy67
Summary: She needs help, but she doesn't want it. He needs love, but he just doesn't know it. How do you start your future when you're still stuck in your past? All human. BxE. Full summary inside
1. Preface

_**Full Summary**_

_Bella is completely broken. Her past has crushed her hope for the future, for everything. Stuck in a place where no one cared, she's now stuck in a place where no one knows. She's an outcast, she's lost, and she wants to just give up. All she needs is help, but that's exactly what she doesn't want._

_Edward is the high school king. The player, the jock, the 'guy'. He get's all the girls, and all the girls want him. From the outside, he's perfect. But on the inside, he's just a lost boy. He needs love, but he just doesn't know it._

**__I do not own these characters_. Stephenie Meyer owns everything.  
>I own nothing but the story line. No copyright infringement intended.<em>**

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><p>The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight.<br>Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time.  
>I am here still waiting though i still have my doubts.<br>I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out...

**Broken - Lifehouse.**

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><p><strong><em>Preface - Broken.<em>**

**_Bella._**

Pain.

It's something that everyone feels at least once in their life. Whether it be physical or emotional. Whether it be the pain of breaking up with your boyfriend who cheated on you, or whether it be the pain of a baby who is being pushed out of a hole that is way too small to think possible. It comes in all forms. Some little, some big. Sometimes it makes a big effect on people's lives, other times it just disappears like an ant being stepped on. And sometimes it just sits there. It just lurks.

People have different ways to deal with it. Crying. Self-harming. Counselling. Faking smiles. Pretending to be happy. And those people, most of them don't want to admit it, they don't want to admit the fact that they need help. They don't want help. And they bury them self into this delusional thought that they're fine, but they're not. And everyone but them can see.

I've felt pain. That dull ache that lives in me 24/7. Yeah, I feel it a heck of a lot.

From the outside we're just the same, we're all just human beings all the same. But the truth is, we aren't. You see, we all have different stories, we all have different reasons. We come from different continents, different countries, we're all different ages and different races. Some of us have boobs and wear make-up, some of us have six-packs and wear boxers. Some of us grow up in gated communities with lots of money, others of us grow up in rented flats with hardly any. We're all human and most of the time we just think that we're all the same. But we're not. We're all completely different.

We all have our own story.

So here's mine.

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><p><strong>Chapters will be longer. <strong>


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Lots of love and thanks goes out to lulabelle98 for beta-ing. Go check out her new drabble fic 'A Healing Touch' and all her other fics at **http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/~lulabelle98 **** and follow her on twitter: ****lulabelle98**. **

**Thank you also to mira18ish for pre-reading. Both of you make this one heck of a lot easier and better. ;)**

****__I do not own these characters_. Stephenie Meyer owns everything.  
>I own nothing but the story line. No copyright infringement intended.<em>****

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><p><strong>It seems like you're wired, to stay here held in time,<br>Cos nothing seems to change, oh no.  
>No nothing's gonna change, at all.<br>I can see it in your face, the hope has gone away.**

**Holes Inside - Joe Brooks**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Holes Inside.<strong>

**_February 2007_**

**_Bella._**

The teacher yells. I nod.

He yells louder. I block him out.

He thinks I'm listening. _He shouldn't waste his breath_, I think.

He's yelling because I wasn't paying attention, again... I other teacher wouldn't care, but of course Mr Angry-Pants has to live up to his conventional name and show me what he's got. Seriously, get your panties sorted out dude.

He gives up his lecture and hands me a detention slip.

'_Monday, 3-4pm. DON'T BE LATE.'_

Once again, another person who doesn't realize that this is my last day here. _Invisible_. At least I won't have to put up with Mr Angry-Pant_ies_in detention.

Class dismissed. _Thank fucking God._

Another day, another drag. I walk the corridors between my final lessons, trying to find a safe place where I won't get pushed into a locker that is entirely too small to hold my bag, let alone myself. The school is too small to fit the two and a half thousand students in, but hey ho, I guess no one cares about personal space anymore, right?

No one notices me as I squeeze through the crowd. Being invisible is sometimes better than being seen around this place. I get pushed around a lot, like usual, but I don't fall. _Today_ I'm standing my ground.

People talk. People kiss. People fight.

The popular boys are pushing the popular girls up against the wall and sucking on their necks. The girls' faces prove to everyone that they are enjoying it and want every to see this PDA scene. To me it's disgusting.

_GET. A. ROOM._

The nerds are pushing through the group of people with stacks of books under their arms. Each one of them are either wearing glasses or braces. Two of them have both. No one notices them either, but some for some reason they still smile and walk past in their little posse without being disturbed by any of the big guys.

The drama group is hanging around one section of lockers. The girls swirl their hair every two seconds, trying to get the attention of the skater boys. They, however, are too rolled up in their own world of cigarettes, boards and of course, piercings.

Today, at least the large jocks are picking on someone else rather than me. Maybe I might be able to go one day without bruising. I see one of the new kids having some sort of drink thrown over his head by the jocks. I feel sorry for him, but I mostly just feel glad that it isn't me.

Even though I think that most of these groups are disgusting, at least they have friends; a group of people who will stick up for them. I have Alice. That's it.

Just one hour left of hell, _or fifty-nine and a half minutes if I wanted to be precise._

I finally push my way through to my locker. It's one of the smallest ones on the school site.

_Just one more hour left_, I remind myself.

I stuff my bag with the two books I need for my last lesson and a bottle of water before heading off to my last lesson. English.

Thankfully, English is starting on time today for once. Mr I-Can't-Read-A-Clock has unfortunately broken his leg. Our new substitute teacher thankfully can remember what time the lesson starts. I'm grateful for once. English is the only bearable lesson, with the only bearable person in the school; Alice.

I look up as I walk through the door of the class and meet the eyes of one of the only two people who actually give a shit about me anymore. She scoots over and pulls out the chair next to her, and with an unconvincing smile on her face, she looks at me.

"You have just one hour left, Bells. Might as well make it a good one."

I chuckle and sit down next to her. As always, she tries to make something good out of a bad situation.

Alice isn't like me. Though we are best friends, she has other friends. Friends that think I'm too weird to even be considered an acquaintance. To most people, I'm just a stranger or 'that girl'.

The lesson starts once everyone is seated.

Mrs Substitute talks. No one listens.

She gives us work. No one does it.

_I_grab some paper from my notebook. I write.

Alice takes my notebook and pulls out a piece for herself. This is our usual routine.

We scribble for the rest of the hour. We don't need words or soppy goodbyes. We know what the other one is thinking; like sisters, telepathic. She knows I won't talk about leaving, or home, or any of that stuff unless I'm having a real breakdown. Today I'm writing random lyrics and for once they aren't depressing.

"I have something for you," she says as she pulls out a box from her book bag.

As she looks up at me, I realize I'm probably giving her the evils. I hate presents and she knows it.

"I know you hate them, but I'm not going to see you for months. So it's just something to remember me by."

She hands me the box and smiles sheepishly, as if she's been caught doing something she shouldn't. I _try_to return the gesture.

She knows it's fake.

Something shines from inside the box but I don't look at it. Sparkly, silver in color and inside of a black velvet box? Yeah, definitely expensive.

I close the lid and stuff it in my bag.

I _think_ I thanked her. I hope I did.

"I'll remember you anyway, Alice." I shrug. She just smiles like always. It's kind of annoying.

I look back down at my notebook and start writing again. She slides her piece of paper over towards me.

This time, I smile.

And she knows it's real.

This is real. Us. Our friendship.

Class is dismissed. School is dismissed. I'm dismissed from my final class at this hell-hole of a school.

We're standing in the crowded car lot. Everyone is walking around us but no one is giving us any attention.

"You _have_ to ring me," she pleads, but her eyes are serious. "Every single week." I laugh at her persistence. She's holding onto me as if her life depends on it.

"Bella, I'm serious. I know you." I smile, a real one too, and roll my eyes. "And skype. I have to see the rainy place." She giggles. "Oh, and talk to your dad about me visiting in the holidays. Okay?"

I nod. I'll miss her.

We hug. I'll miss this.

She cries. She'll miss me.

And I die a little more inside.

This is it. This is goodbye.

For now.

"Love you, Bella," she says, squeezing me so tight I can hardly breathe.

I chuckle under my breath. "Spring break, okay? I'll see you spring break." I smile again, looking into her eyes.

She nods enthusiastically. "I love you too, smiley." I laugh and give her one last hug before she runs toward her school bus that is just about to leave.

Swapping sun for rain.

Swapping Mom for Dad.

Swapping nothing for hopefully something.

There's nothing left here for me. Except Alice. But even she isn't enough to make me stay.

All the pain, all the problems, they all started here. And though I wish they would just end here- end tomorrow when I jump on that plane- I know they won't. I know that more pain is going to follow. More hurt, more tears, more blood. It's how my life works. _Pain, pain, pain._

There are only two people in my life who actually want me. I'm moving away from one of them to live with the other. How fucked up is that? I actually have to choose one over the other.

I have to stand here in the car lot, saying goodbye to the only person that actually makes me feel a teeny bit better. At the same time, my whole life is crumbling while those that walk past me decide which party they're going to fucking attend this weekend. And whether or not they're going to spend their time drinking, dancing or fucking.

She turns around once she's on the steps of the bus and waves over the heads of the other students. "Promise me you'll text me when you land?" she yells, just so I can hear.

I give her a thumbs up and reply, "I promise!" She smiles and turns to take her seat on the bus.

_I promise._

**_~LLWD~_**

The door slams sometime around ten. I'm in my room finishing off my packing. I don't need to see go downstairs to know who it is. It's _him._

His feet start stomping up the stairs loudly. I push my bag under my bed, bracing myself for the impact.

He's near. He's coming.

My door opens, and sure enough, he's standing there ready. His expression is in between furious and sadistic and my heart, like always, skips a beat; the scared little girl coming back to me.

"UP!" he demands, and I don't even want to think what would happen if I ignore him. He slams my door behind him, making the empty shelves shiver, and then smiles crookedly, almost evilly, at me.

He quickly paces toward me, only just giving me a chance to stand. I back up and he pushes me against the wall. My eyes automatically shut tight.

_Just one last time Bella. Then it'll be over.__Soon._I tell myself this over and over again. I try to believe my own words but I can't.

My head searches for something to think about other than the torture. The only I hope I can think of is tomorrow.

_Tomorrow_. It'll be better tomorrow. I'll have Charlie.

Charlie isn't like this. Charlie is a real dad, my dad, and he hugs me and smiles that old worn smile that I love and miss so much. Charlie buys me clothes and cooks shitty meals that I appreciate even though I want to throw up afterwards. Charlie offers me a home when he finds out I get abused in my other one, and he doesn't ask questions, but instead makes me feel welcome and safe about coming to live with him.

Charlie is my hope. Charlie is tomorrow.

But Charlie isn't here yet.

_Phil_, on the other hand, _is_.

My eyes are still shut tight, but the tears manage to find a way to escape. I can't see anything. But I can feel it all.

He's grabbing at my jeans, ripping them down my legs. I want to kick him. I want to get out of this mess but he's grabbing onto me so tightly. I cry, sobs heaving through my chest over and over again. I feel sick. I'm going to be sick. I can't.

Renee isn't home yet. It would be worse if she was. Much worse.

I don't fight him. My past tells me not too, it just makes it longer, harder and more painful. I don't want to make him angrier. He keeps going. I cry louder. The tears fall down my cheeks and wet my t-shirt.

He pulls and shoves me towards the wall. Then towards the bed. He undoes his belt and pulls his own jeans down. His fists bury into my hips. It hurts. It stings.

He hasn't shaved today; the rough stubble on his cheek runs across my neck. I swallow. He feels it and pushes against me harder. I scream, but it's no use. No one can hear me.

I should be used to it by now. The amount of times it's happened should have worn out the shock I feel at least a little bit. Most days it happens, but each time it's just as bad as the last. He pushes me harder and it kills me.

It's amusement for him. Entertainment of some sort. Relief? Fuck, I don't know.

It's _pain._

It's rape and it's pain.

It hurts and only I can feel it. Only I can feel him pressing against me. Only I can feel him rubbing across my skin, and the bruises he may be leaving behind. And_I'm_ the only one who feels him push himself into me.

That's _his_ 'target'. But for me it's the new sob that heaves through my chest. It's the pain that rips through every single vein in my body. It's the shock. It's the tears. It's the memories; the cutting, the hurt, and the little girl who had to watch her big brother get run over. It's the building yourself and up and getting pushed back down again. It's everything. Everything and nothing. All at the same time.

Time passes and more tears fall. He pushes. He pulls. He hits me and bruises me, and I know this one is going to as well as he slaps my cheek. Then he finishes and leaves. The door shuts loudly on his way out. He leaves me standing by my bed with a tear-stained face and my jeans hanging around my ankles.

He leaves me broken, weak and vulnerable. I fall down. I break. It's routine. It's life. It's my life.

I go to the bathroom. The tears have stopped, but only because I know what comes next.

I strip and step under the water. A razor finds its way into my hand and my arm is just waiting patiently for the slice. I cut. The blood drips as soon as the blade gets through the skin. It drips into the bottom of the tub and I repeat the same action, just above the last one. It hurts like a bitch.

I wince.

But at least I feel something other than the numbness.

I feel _content_.

It's an addiction, but it's my sort of therapy. No one understands that it helps me get away, that it helps me make sure I don't break down in front of everyone.

I wash my hair, strawberry. It makes me feel a bit better. It makes me smell sweet. I wrap the towel around me, my wet hair dripping down my back, bare feet padding against the tiled flooring. I don't look in the mirror on the way out. I know what there is and I don't need to see any more than I have to.

_Bruises__;_ blue, purple, black. You name a color. I bet I can find one. _Cuts__;_old, new, deep. You want to see the proof?

I'm sore. My pelvis aches from the roughness of the last one. He was forceful and violent and it hurts. Not just on the inside, but physically too. I don't want to even think about checking though.

I slip into the pyjamas I left out for my final night and snuggle under my covers, pulling my laptop out. Tomorrow I'll be somewhere completely different. It will be completely different.

I don't want to leave_Phoenix__._ Fuck yes, I _need_ to leave Renee and Phil. But the sun, Alice. I'm not going to find that all up in Washington State.

I have an email waiting for me. It's Dad. It's Charlie.

_'Hey Bells. Tomorrow's the__big __day, huh? Can't believe it! _

_Your bed is made and your room is waiting. I hope it's okay. It's Riley's old room from before you were born. He'd love for you to have it. _

_I went up to Forks High last week, already enrolled you, and they said you can start Monday seeing as it's already half way through the semester. I know it won't give you long to adjust, but I thought school might help you get settled in with everyone around town?_

_You know Jacob Black? He lives next door. You used to play together when you were little. Big boy now! Very nice. He lost his mother last year, Sarah. You remember her? His father, Billy, is now in a wheelchair. He's one of my best friends. Anyway, just thought I'd tell you that, so you know you're not a stranger to everyone around here. (:_

_Anyway, this is one of the first times I've ever sent an email. I thought it would be easier to type it all rather than ring you. Knowing me I'd forget all of this. Jake helped me send this email. Believe me; don't trust me with electronics unless it's the TV._

_Hope you have a safe flight! I'll be waiting for you in the arrivals lounge. 1 p.m? You'll get to see my police cruiser._

_Can't wait to see you._

_Dad xx'_

My eyes water while I read his words. He fucking loves me, and just that fact makes me want to believe that it's all going to be okay. I gave up believing in anything a long time ago. But Char- Dad- will make it okay. Safe.

I have always just wished that I could wake up and be normal, with a big happy family in a glorious gated community where I didn't have to worry about a single thing. But that was never going to happen. Wishes - at least mine - never come true.

Over the years, I've told Charlie as much as I could. He knows. Some of it, but not all, and definitely not in detail. I don't have the guts to tell him everything. I just don't have the confidence to tell him. He knows that Renee and I hate each other's guts because she took me away from the only two boys I've ever loved. And he knows that I get bullied at school. But I have never told him about the rape or the cutting. I haven't seen him in four years. _Four years._ Thank God for emails and phones.

I just hope he never has to find out. It may _crush_ _me_to be the one who gets all of this shit, but he's the one that has no control over saving me. He would have tried. I know Charlie and he would have tried. He would have saved me if he could. But I couldn't and he can't, and he probably never will. It's not his fault; it's just how life works out.

Most of the changes in my life have been bad. Hopefully this will be one of the few good ones. I smile. _Change for good._Never heard that one before.

I lock my bedroom door and scramble back into bed, picking up my laptop and creating a new email.

_'Hi Charlie.'_

Charlie? Seriously, Bella? You expect him to take you into his heart, into his _house,_and then call him _Charlie_ rather than _Dad_? Seriously?

Okay. Scratch that. Start again.

_'Hi Dad.'_

Much better.

_'I know; tomorrow and I'm out of this place! You don't know how much of a relief it is. I appreciate the room and the school situation. Thank you. _

_I remember Jake; he was the tanned one from La Push, right? We used to play on the beach together I think? It'll be good to hear from him again. Does he go to Forks high? I hope Billy is holding up well._

_Sorry to hear about Sarah. Is she in Forks Cemetery too? Could we possibly visit there tomorrow? It's been four years since I've seen you or Riley._

_Anyway, I'm going to sleep now. Not long left._

_See ya tomorrow, 1.00 p.m._

_Bells.'_

Send.

I shut down my laptop, a birthday present from Alice's parents, and stuff it into the top of my suitcase. I slip back under covers and snuggle into my pillow. Tears slip down my cheeks, but they aren't like the usual heavy sobs that come most nights. It's happened so many times that I just try to block it all out and forget.

Tonight is different. There is a feeling lurking inside me; not hope, not pain. Just life. It's frightening.

But for the first time in years, I fall asleep knowing tomorrow may be different.

**_~LLWD~_**

I wake by myself, without the help of the daily alarm. I smile as I stretch out. Today _is_ going to be different.

I shower, and for once my blood remains in my veins intact, without having to be drained inside of the tub.

_One shower__cut free... let's see how long this lasts._

I brush my teeth. I don't want breakfast.

Wash my face, no make-up. _Never __make-up_. I don't want to feel like those girls who walk around sucking the faces of the boys in the school corridors.

Hoodie, jeans and boots. Though I feel boiling hot now, I've already checked Washington's temperature. And it doesn't look nice.

**_~LLWD~_**

_8 a.m__._

My flight leaves at 11.30.

I grab my bags and scan the room for anything else that I need. I think I have it all. Renee is taking me to the airport in her small KIA. My suitcase barely fits in the trunk.

We don't talk during the journey. She looks anything but happy. But inside I bet she's jumping for joy that I'm finally leaving.

_Or maybe not. I'm forgetting that I'm her entertainment. She's losing her toy._

She pulls into the drop off point at Phoenix Sky Harbour International Airport. I never understood why they needed such a long name and couldn't just settle with Phoenix airport. I start to get out of the car so I can grab fm bag, but I'm halted by a sudden pull at my jumper.

She leans forward, pulling her to me. Her face is in mine. Her eyes are evil. She doesn't have the eyes of a caring mother. She doesn't have the sensitivity of a loving wife... I _hate_ her.

I give her the same look back to show her how much I despise her.

"You dare tell shit to anyone. We'll get you," she says, just before spitting in my face.

_Lovely._

"Especially _Charlie_." She laughs humourlessly, pushing me away.

I pull my suitcase out from the back and sling my rucksack on my shoulder. I wipe her spit away from my cheek as her car accelerates away.

Finally I feel a bit better. I won't have to see that witch ever again. Or her husband.

That thought alone makes me smile. A real one too.

**_~LLWD~_**

"Good afternoon, this is your captain speaking. As you can see, the fasten seat belts sign is now on. Please make your way back to your seats and fasten your seatbelts. We should be arriving in the next twenty minutes."

Out of the window, only the sight of clouds is visible. It's horrible, and the captain's next words make me feel even worse.

"The ground temperature in Seattle is approximately 51 degrees Fahrenheit, which is pretty average for February."

_Average? 51 degrees? How__in the world am I supposed to live?_

In Phoenix, you could barely walk around in jeans because it was too hot. How the hell was I supposed to cope? The February average for Phoenix is ten degrees higher than it is here_. Ten degrees that I freakin' miss already._

The final twenty minutes doesn't seem to take that long. I search through my bag for a hat and some gloves, stuffing them into the pocket of my hoodie. After I grab my suitcase, I make my way toward the arrivals lounge. I was damn right earlier; it _is_ freezing.

Through the small crowd of people waiting for their loved ones or their taxi clients, I see the top of Charlie's head. I smile as I look down at the floor, and walk towards him.

There is no screaming, no jumping for joy, and there are no tears. Yet_._

We find each other and he pulls me into his arms, my dark brown hair falling over my face, and he squishes me into his chest awkwardly.

I'm concentrating on the warmth of the man hugging me. His big arms wrap around my shoulders as my head rests against his chest. He leans his head on top of mine and whispers, "Welcome home, Bells." He places a small kiss on my hair.

After a while of standing in the middle of the crowd in his embrace, he unwraps his arms from me and places his hands on my shoulders.

"You're here," he whispers as though he doesn't quite believe his own words. It makes me smile. "You're really here," he repeats.

Fingers that you wouldn't have thought were soft but actually are comfort my cheeks, wiping away the wetness which I didn't know had formed. Eyes that surprisingly look just like mine, large and brown, shimmer at me as though they're looking through me, rather than at me. And lips that lay just beneath a dark, neat moustache smile as though they have never smiled before. And it's contagious. It's _real._

A suitcase that looks older than Charlie's and my age put together is wheeled toward the exit. Hands that are way too cold slip into soft black gloves. And ears that feel as though they're going to fall off get a woolly dark hat placed upon them.

And all is warm. All is good.

_For now._

The cruiser looks new. White, black and smart. A surge of pride bursts through me as I think of my dad in this car driving around Forks. A respected man.

And as we drive down the dreary, wet roads of Washington, I don't feel as though I'm an abused seventeen year old. I don't feel as though only yesterday I was raped once again. And I definitely don't feel as though I have to self-harm myself to actually feel something other than pain.

I feel proud. But sadly, he's also the man whose ex-wife took both of his kids away. One of which he'll never get back.

**_~LLWD~_**

I think I fell asleep, either that or the drive was much shorter than I expected. But I had closed my eyes, I can remember that.

We're still driving. There are signs pointing to Forks Community Hospital and the library. I sit up. I guess we made it to Forks already.

"Nice sleep?" He looks down at me with a grin. It's fake. It doesn't reach his eyes.

I nod. It is surprisingly now warm in the car.

"You talk," he says, looking back at the road in front of him. It isn't a question. I'm pretty sure he knows I can talk. I spoke to him earlier on the journey here. He's just stating a fact, his face completely blank, but his eyes are hiding an emotion that looks a lot like pain.

I knew that look too well.

I'm confused. "Huh?"

His eyes are stuck on the road, mine are on him.

"In your sleep, you talk."

_Shit._

He looks down toward my arm and I pull my sleeve down to my fingers, feeling self-conscious. Now he knows. But how much is he aware of?

"It's okay. You don't have to talk about anything," Charlie says while shrugging. He keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

He looks so hurt, like he almost wants to cry. But he holds it together and pulls into a small drive way.

At the end of the drive way is a small white two story house. Along the street there are many of the same kind. It has a wooden, white porch and small grass front lawn. The trees are big enough to make it look like the house is in the middle of the forest. They overshadow it. It is totally different to the house in Phoenix.

"I'll get your bag." Soft words come from his direction as he jumps out of the car. I can't tell what mood he is in, but I don't think it is as good a one as it had been. I follow him out of the car and walk behind him up the front porch steps. I feel out of place. As if I don't belong here.

_Where the heck do I belong?_

I follow him upstairs once inside of the house. It isn't as warm as the car had been, but it's more bearable than I expected.

"Uhm... well, this is your room. I cleaned most of Riley's stuff out. But the basics are still there." He shrugs, placing my suitcase by the bed. "That's your bathroom," he says, pointing around the corner and then looking back at me. "You can, uh, unpack. Then I'll take you to the cemetery and the diner for some steak?" I smile in agreement, and thank him.

He smiles back. It's fake. We are just going in circles.

_What did I tell him about the cutting in my sleep? Or worse?_

I open up my suitcase once I'm left alone. T-shirts, shorts, flip flops and barely anything warm. I _really_need to go shopping.

It has started to rain outside; the sound of it pelting down on the roof is way too loud for me. I hate it but love it at the same time. It's weird and foreign to me.

I put everything away in the drawers and stuff my suitcase under the bed. I'm still wearing my hoodie and decide the best option is to put my only pair of boots on.

Downstairs, Charlie is talking on the phone to someone. I'm not really one to spy, but I seriously can't help thinking that he is talking about me. His words become louder, clearer, and I manage to pick up some of what he is saying.

"Yeah, I mean I don't know what to say to her Billy. It was all just coming out. And I knew it was bad, but I didn't know it was that bad. I didn't know she was... ya' know?" he confesses. He runs his hands through his hair. He's facing away from me thankfully. "Yeah... really? ... That would be great... We'll be round around eleven... Okay, see ya Billy. Say hi to the boy for me," Charlie speaks into the handset before placing it down on the table.

"Bells? You ready?" he calls.

Now is my time to appear. I turn the corner of the room and walk in.

Older brown eyes meet my younger ones and they seem to smile at each other. Arms open and bodies are held. Words whisper into long brunette hair. "I'm here if you want to talk, Bells. You know that, right? I'm not going to judge you." And for once in my life, I have someone other than Alice comforting me.

Alice. _Shit_.

I run from his arms and sprint back up the stairs, searching through my rucksack for my crappy mobile that held only two contacts.

_Alice._

_Charlie._

Sad, I know. But they are the only ones I need.

_'In Forks now. Fell asleep in the car and forgot to text you. It's raining already. Charlie is nice though. Miss you. Xx Bella'_

Send.

I run back downstairs to where Charlie is standing. His confused eyes meet my apologetic ones as I realize he probably thought I was running away because of what he said.

"I had to text Alice. I promised her I would as soon as I landed, but I forgot," I say with a sheepish smile.

"It's okay. Come on, let's go."

And out we walk out of the door, into an environment where even Heaven cries.

_Rain._

**_~LLWD~_**

"This is it," Charlie says, pointing to a gravestone in the grass. The greyish stone stands in the ground in a line of others just like it. Red and white roses are placed on the grass by the side of it. They don't look as though they have been there for long.

"Nearly ten years. Time has passed so quickly," Charlie says as we both stand staring at the grave.

"He would have been twenty four next month." I sigh, wiping a stray tear from my cheek. Charlie places his arm over my shoulder. His breathing is deep, as though he is thinking about something hard.

_'Riley Swan._

_3/25/1983 - 4/23/1997_

_Always protected those who he loved._

_Now he is in the arms of protection._

_Forever loved.'_

His face turns to mine and I hear the words that I hadn't heard in years. "I love you Bella." He sighs as another tear falls down my face. I go to wipe it away with the back of my sleeve but he quickly gets there and wipes it away before I can.

"I may have lost him, but I'm not going to lose you too. You're here now. You're safe, you know that right?" he says as he rubs my upper arm.

I nod into his chest. Tears flow down my cheeks at full pelt now, and I'm not going to stop them.

"You don't have to talk about it now. But you know, if it helps, I can find someone for you to talk to. A counselor? We could get you into therapy? I don't mind. I just want to help you."

I look up and meet his gaze.

_This_is why I cut.

_This_ is why no one understands.

They all think that professionals can help me. They all think I'd be better telling a random stranger my problems. _My life._

No one gets it.

My head starts shaking furiously as I look up at him. Tears are coming even quicker now and it's hard to see. He tries to wipe them away and hush me but it isn't working. Instead, his warm arms wrap around me and he holds me.

He holds his daughter. He holds me and this is what I need.

I just need someone to love me.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Bella." Soft words echo in my ears. "I promise."

I take a deep breath and look up and away from him, and down at my dead brother who is buried six foot under the soil.

"It's not you I'm worried about," I whisper.

I kneel down and kiss my fingers before placing them on the gravestone head. Words leave my mouth but no sound accompanies them. _"__I miss you Riley,"_I mouth before standing up again.

I haven't been here since I was thirteen. That was the last time I had seen my dad. It was six years after Riley died and the year before Renee got re-married. It was the year it had all started; being taken away from my father, the bullying, the rape...

_Deep breaths, Bella. You can say this.__It's only three words. Charlie hasn't heard them in years. You haven't said them in years. Come on..._But I can't even convince myself anymore, so I go back to the previous subject, not moving my eyes from Riley.

"My life at Renee's has been hard, Dad. Like, I can't even say it to you, so how on earth am I meant to say it to a stranger who is probably only going to listen to my problems because they're being paid, not because they actually care? How am I meant to open up to someone I don't even know, when I can't even open up to my best friend or my own Dad?" I quickly say, trying to get it all out in one breath. Tears are about slip over the edge of my eye, but I hold it back, along with the sob threatening to crack in my chest.

Neither of us moves. We both stand there watching the wind blow through the grass, just staring at Riley's gravestone. I cy silently. He stands behind me, but even I can tell that tears are falling from his eyes too. It breaks my heart. My own father crying.

"You're my daughter. She doesn't deserve you, and I'm going to do everything in my power to prove to you what kind of a dad I can be," he says, pulling me toward his chest once again and kissing the top of my head. "I'm so sorry. I don't want you to hurt anymore, Bells. I have you now, I've got you," he whispers.

And all is calm.

The rain slowly stops. The wind steadies down, and the faint glimmer of the afternoon sun comes out from behind the clouds.

Today is different, but what about tomorrow? What about school and the bullies? The nightmares and the cutting?

It's all different, all new.

I now have someone who truly loves me, who truly cares and is going to try everything he can to show me just that.

But it isn't over; that lurking, that feeling of something more than all of this. The pain is still there.

It's still crushing me.

_**~LLWD~**_

"Charlie! Steak and cobbler like usual?" A woman with dark brown hair and some grey streaks stands by our table. She has a rough accent. I think she's from New York.

Charlie nods, smiles and hands her the menu back. I look down at mine and pick the first thing I lay eyes on.

"And who is this Charlie?" the lady asks him with raised eyebrows.

I want to roll my eyes but I don't. "This is Bella. My daughter," Charlie says with a big grin. He looks so... _proud__? _My insides tickle. "She's come to live with me."

The lady gapes at me. Her mouth opens and her eyes widen. I smile shyly, but to be honest, it's a bit intimating.

"You're Bella! Charlie has told me so much about you! How do you like Forks?" she asks, completely forgetting the food.

"It's... wet." They both chuckle a bit and she looks back at her notebook.

"So what can I get for you darlin'?"

_Two people have been nice to me in one day. _This is freakishly weird.

"Uhm, can I have the garden burger please?" I say quietly, passing her my menu.

She smiles. "Sure. I'll bring them out as soon as I can."

And with that she's gone.

"I like telling people my daughter is living with me." Charlie smiles sweetly.

I smile back. It's real.

"I know you do." I look out of the window. It's still raining. "I like it here, even if it is a bit rainy." I laugh softly.

Charlie looks up. His eyes are sparkling with something. I don't know what though. Happiness? Pride?

"I like you being here." He smiles. It's real, really real.

I smile back.

"So do I, Dad."

_So do I._

* * *

><p><strong><em>See ya soon. :)<em>**


	3. Chapter 2

****AN: ********Thanks a million to lulabelle98 (Twitter: lulabelle98) for beta-ing. Go check out her drabble, it's amazing!****

****Thanks also to My_R Cullen (Twitter: Mira18ish) for pre-reading :)****

********__I do not own these characters_. Stephenie Meyer owns everything.  
>I own nothing but the story line. No copyright infringement intended.<em>********

* * *

><p><strong>Does it ever get any better?<br>****Or will I feel this way the rest of my life?  
><strong>**I just can't get it together,  
><strong>**Now and then I'm losing my mind..**

**All My Life - Krezip**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2 - All My Life.<strong>

I can't sleep tonight and for once it's not because I'm crying or dodging the usual nightmares. It's because I'm cold.

**_~LLWD~_**

We're sitting at the small white table in the middle of the kitchen. Charlie is reading the paper while I'm sipping coffee and picking at my bowl of cornflakes. My brown hair is knotted and matted, tied into a scruffy ponytail that leaves the disarray draping down my upper back. My eyes are heavy, full of sleep, and have a bag the size of Jupiter hanging underneath them. I look hideous, and the four hours of sleep I managed to get last night is the reason why. Even if I did wear make-up, I don't think any orange paste would be able to cover up this mess. I'm wearing a grey hoodie, some old sweatpants and a pair of thick socks. I look like a hobo and I probably smell like garbage at this point, but I don't give a crap.

We haven't spoken. The silence is almost deafening and all I can do is look around the room, peering at the different appliances over and over again. Charlie continues to read his paper though I haven't heard him turn the page in almost five minutes.

I down the remains of my coffee before standing up and heading toward the counter where I make myself another cup. Caffeine is the only thing that is keeping my eyes from closing.

"You mind if we go round Billy's this afternoon?" Charlie asks without looking up from his paper. He's pretending to read, but it's clear that he's just waiting for me to answer. "Or I can cancel. Billy won't mind." He flips the page over and begins to read again though his eyes don't look as though they're moving.

"I'd like to see Jake," I confess as I take a sip of my burning hot coffee.

Can you get high on caffeine?

Charlie looks up as though he doesn't believe me. His eyes and words admit to his disbelief. "Really?"

I nod, scooping up some cornflakes onto my spoon and eating them.

"Okay..." Charlie says quietly. "I said we'll be there for one. Can you be ready by then?" His eyes rake over my clothes and my face, obviously noticing the complete chaos that is Bella Swan in her morning madness.

I smile, but I'm tired and it comes out as more of a smirk rather than a reassurance. "Sure."

He laughs under his breath. "Bells, you look terrible." Way to put it blunt Charlie. Thanks. "How much sleep did you get?"

Nowhere near as much as I need.

"Enough," I lie, shrugging. "Travelling just wears me out."

He nods in understanding and thankfully doesn't question my answer. I can't complain about the weather on my first day here.

I wash my bowl and place it on the drying rack. Charlie leaves the kitchen soon after telling me he's going to shower, and I'm back to sitting down at the table drinking my cup of magic eye lifter.

**_~LLWD~_**

Their house is like ours but darker and a different shape. The resemblance is still there though; the wooden panels, the front lawn and the driveway. Our houses are around thirty yards apart from each other, which means we're far enough away to have our own space, but still close enough to still be called neighbors.

Charlie walks up Billy and Jake's drive and I follow closely behind. The front door swings open and a man in a wheelchair sits under the threshold with a large grin planted on his face. Billy. He has long black hair that hangs around his shoulders. His eyes look black as well, but they sparkle in the light which makes them seem softer.

We walk up the porch steps. Charlie has a smile on his face that mirrors Billy's. They both sort of look like long-lost brothers.

"Billy!" Charlie says, virtually out of breath as he reaches the front door. I'm standing right behind him, feeling out of place and lost.

Charlie bends down and hugs him, patting him on the back as Billy returns the gesture. "Billy, this is my girl," Charlie says, stepping out of the way and signaling toward me. "Bells, this is Billy, one of my best friends."

Billy smiles at me and I attempt to smile back. He holds out a hand and I gently shake it.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too Bella," he says as Charlie steps around him and wheels him inside of the house. "Jacob is in the room on the left. He's watching the football." He smiles and disappears into the lounge with Charlie, leaving me standing alone outside in the freezing cold.

I walk inside, closing the door quietly behind me, and make my way over to the room Jacob is apparently in. I knock gently on the door. No response comes back except the muffled noises of the TV. I push the door open and sure enough the TV is on way too loud, playing a football game.

Jacob is sitting on the brown couch. He's facing away from me and hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He's wearing a white wife beater, which seems a little unwise considering the weather outside, but it shows the ripples of muscle that coat his upper back and shoulders. I haven't even seen his face and the large boy in front of me already intimidates me. He doesn't look at me or greet me. His eyes never leave the screen where men in dark blue shirts chase each other around. His full concentration is on the game in front of him.

"Come on!" Jacob jumps up quickly, as though experiencing an electric shock. But of course his sudden movement has something to do with the game, seeing as he's shouting and punching the air. "Yes, Bears!" he yells in victory as loud cheers sound out from the TV speakers. On the screen large, men jump on top of each other's backs with beaming smiles. It seems completely ridiculous, reminding me of how much I hate sport. Jacob turns around to pick up a bottle of beer when he suddenly freezes.

_Shit_. I'm still here.

He looks up from the corner of his eye. The pair of us probably look like a deer in the headlights, or like a five-year-old boy who has just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. I feel the heat rise to my cheeks as I realize I've just been standing here watching him for the past few minutes. He stands up straight, smiling sheepishly and turns the volume on the TV down.

"You're Bella, right?"

I nod silently, feeling embarrassed. "Yeah, and you're Jacob?"

He nods back with a large toothy grin. His teeth are so white_, _the complete opposite of his tan body_._"Call me Jake… I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Football kind of gets me in a trance." He laughs, waving me over toward the couch and signaling for me to sit down. I do so as he sits down on the opposite side of the couch to me, lounging against the armrest.

"So how are you enjoying Forks? Must be completely different to Phoenix, eh?"

"It's definitely different." I chuckle under my breath. "The weather for one is a big change. I can't remember it ever being this cold." I shiver involuntarily at the absence of the hot sun. "And it's quieter here. Maybe I was just too young at the time to realize how deserted this town really is, but compared to Phoenix this is like a single strand of grass in a massive field."

He laughs and I can't help but smile at him. "I guess you don't like the rain, huh?"

I shake my head, wincing at the thought of _liking_ the rain. It's cold, wet and makes everything look miserable. The only thing good about it is that no one would be able to tell if you were crying.

He smirks at me while I grimace. "You get used to it." He shrugs, pointing out the lack of clothes covering him up. He picks up his bottle of beer and chugs it down, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he does so. "You want a drink?"

"Water please." I nod with a soft smile.

He gets up and walks out of the room. I'm left alone.

The room feels warm and bright despite the fact that the windows contradict that exact thought. Outside the rain is pelting down. The sky looks dark grey and the trees over the road are swaying to one side. But the room feels homely. It almost makes you forget the outside world.

The TV is still playing lightly in the background; I almost forgot it was still on. It's now changed to something different. I don't have the enthusiasm to look, and sport has never gained any of my attention.

I stay sitting on the couch, looking around the room at the light yellow painted walls and the photos hanging up. One catches my eye, and without even realizing it I'm already up and inspecting it.

There's a man with long hair and a big grin, just likes Jacob's earlier. His white teeth stand out against his tanned face, and his dark eyes are focusing on the woman in front of him. They're both sitting next to each other on some steps. I assume they're the front porch steps outside of the house. She has long hair too, but wavier and lighter. She has creases on her forehead and beside her smile, almost making her look old and frail, but happy nonetheless.

There's also a boy. He looks so young and care free, sitting in front of his parents. He has short brown hair that's spiked up slightly. I'm not sure whether it's from gel or just plain bed-hair, but it's cute either way. His eyes shine in the sun, which seems unbelievable as it looks to me as if this photo was taken in Forks. He has a small smile on his face, looking away from the camera and at something in the distance.

It's the photo of a happy family; just the fact that they're all wearing smiles shows exactly that. My insides churn as I realize that Jacob has lost that happy family he once had. He's lost that picture and that moment to go with it. He can never get it back. He can never get _her_ back.

"That was uh… taken in the summer of '98."

I swing around at the sound of Jacob's voice. He's standing in the doorway watching me with a sad smile, a glass of water in his hand and lost puppy eyes. I look toward the photo and back at him again, returning the same sad smile that is plastered on his face.

"Do you miss her?" I ask in the quietest voice.

_He __doesn__'__t __want __to __talk __about __her. __Of __course __he __misses __her, _I tell myself.

He smiles awkwardly. This is probably a subject I shouldn't have touched on quite so soon. He scratches the back of his neck as he nods. "Every day."

I take one last glance at the photo before walking over to the couch and sitting down, trying my best to change the subject of the conversation. He sits next to me and hands me the glass. Thankfully the bubbly, joyful expression on his face has reappeared.

"So, you looking forward to school tomorrow?" He smirks as though he already knows the answer.

I laugh out loud. "Oh yeah, can't wait to join a school in the middle of the semester, covered with green stuff and rain." I shudder at the thought.

He grins again as though he finds my dilemma amusing. I scowl in return.

"Aw come on, it's not that bad."

I rub my fists over my eyes trying to find the easy way out. Instead I just shrug in response.

His smile drops a bit, as though he really does feel for me. "I'll look out for you, I promise."

"I'm pretty sure you can't just stop the whole school from mocking me." I sigh, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knee. I look around the room and can almost _feel _Jacob's stare locked on me.

"How many people were at your old school?" he asks.

"Two or three thousand maybe?"

He smirks but doesn't look surprised. "And who were the popular ones? Who owned the hallways at lunch?"

_Well __that__'__s __an __easy __question. _"The jocks, the cheerleaders any one who had money, fashion sense or confidence. You get the picture," I mumble just loud enough so he can hear.

"Okay," he says, a small smile playing on his lips. "Do you know how many people go to Forks High?" he asks.

I shake my head, waiting for him to tell me.

"Around four to five hundred." He shrugs as though it's common knowledge, but I'm pretty sure that he knows exactly what he's doing.

I sit gawping at him.

_A__round __400 __to __500 __people?_ You have got to be kidding me.

The back of my neck tickles as the fear runs through me. "Wow… that's barely anyone," I say in a voice that undoubtedly sounds like a mixture of scared shitless and shock.

He nods. "Yep. But like I said, I'll look out for you and make sure you don't get bombarded tomorrow. It's a pretty rare occurrence when new people join, especially half way through a semester." He laughs and I think this time he's trying to make it sound a little better. But it just sounds even worse.

They are all going to talk about me the moment I step through the entrance. They are going to laugh and gossip, throw things at me and interrupt my lessons. It's going to be a disaster and I already hate it_._

_Is it too late to be homeschooled?_

"Jake, like I said earlier… even if the school is only-" I take a deep breath, still trying to come to terms with what sounds like an almost deserted school "-four or five hundred people, that's still way too many teenagers for a guy like you to take on. Plus, I don't want you to feel as though you have to be keeping an eye on me the whole time." I shrug.

He shifts on the sofa so he's facing me directly. He lifts his knees up so he's mirroring my position and our toes are less than an inch apart. But I'm not concentrating on that. I'm concentrating on the look on his face, the smile that has disappeared and is now just a serious line of red lips.

He's going to say something, something deep, and it's going to totally ruin the chagrined mood I worked myself into. I can see it in his eyes; that look where he's put all the joking aside and we're down to serious business. Personally it scares the hell out of me, but I knew it was just waiting to happen.

"I don't want to make you feel as though I'm going to baby you, because I'm not doing that. But there are some things I have to tell you," he states clearly. "Last year when my mom died, my whole family was torn apart. Dad was already in his chair and it was all just completely crumbling. But your dad was like some superman or something to us. He was there the whole time, helping my dad and I get back into some sort of routine." He breathes in, thinking about what he's about to say."I owe Charlie a lot. He helped us because he knew what it was like when you lose someone you love so dearly. He lost you and Riley, and he's so lucky and grateful to have you back in his arms, back in his _life.__"_

He watches as a stray tear slips down my cheek caused by his words. "I owe him and he needs his little girl, so I'm going to try and make sure she doesn't want to run back home."

He smiles but my whole body freezes. He thinks I would want to go home?

"I uh… I never want to… uh, go back there," I stutter, tears on the edge of my eye. They're about to fall.

They do.

He turns around and grabs a box of tissues, handing them to me. His expression turns sad but there is still shock in his eyes, as though he doesn't know why the hell I'm crying. I just don't want to go back.

"No one is saying you have to. I meant to say that I'm going to try and make sure you're comfortable at school," he tries to reassure me. But it's not convincing and it isn't making me feel any better.  
>"I've felt it too, you know? Pain. I know what its like." He breathes out quietly. "You don't have to hide it from me, Bella. You don't have to pretend to be so strong and perfect. There's no shame in it."<p>

And with that, I turn into a crumbling mess. I can't stop the tears from racing down my face. I can't stop the bubbles in my chest that are making me choke up. I'm using up all the tissues, wiping them around my nose and eyes. I cough and sniff as I try to gain control of myself. I don't even have to look in a mirror to know that I look disgusting.

This is so embarrassing. There's no way he's going to want to even _pretend_ to know me at school.

_Bella, __come __on.__You __have __no __reason __to __cry,_ I tell myself, but I can't even believe my own thoughts. That's just how messed up I am.

It all happens so quickly. One minute we're on opposite sides of the couch – me in tears and him watching me – and then suddenly, he leans forward, and his large muscled arms are open waiting to engulf me. Automatically, my frail body recoils, half expecting to receive a blow just like I used to get in Phoenix. He drops his arms, accepting the fact that I don't feel comfortable with being touched, and goes back to watching me instead.

It should feel awkward. It should feel more embarrassing than it did a minute ago, but it doesn't. It's just pain. I should be used to it. It's never usually like this, crying in front of someone I mean. Normally it's a few tears when I'm alone.

I hate crying. So why am I?

Or maybe bawling is a better word. Man, I'm weak.

My chest thumps hard and loud. I look up at his face and through my blurry vision. I can see his own hurt plastered on his face. We are both a mess.

This time last week, one person actually cared. One person actually made me feel a tiny bit like I was worth something… and now I almost have this _guard_ around me, trying to protect me. It's confusing and was easier, maybe not safer or healthier, but much easier to live when I had no one to explain stuff too. It was easier to go day by day without anyone noticing me, let alone comfort me.

I hated being ignored, sure. I hated having to walk through every day and not have any one say a word to me. I used to find that hurtful. But its effects on me are nothing compared to being the center of attention, and that's what I'm most scared about. How am I meant to live through tomorrow and the rest of the semester until someone new comes along? Sure, Jacob says he has my back, but he can't watch me 24/7. And I'm seventeen now. I'm not that little seven-year-old anymore.I have to grow up rather than be weak and cry in front of people. But right now, that's all I need; someone to listen and wait while I cry myself out.

Someone who understands… and I think he does.

_**~LLWD~**_

"You're not a vegetarian, are you?"

The tears from earlier have all dried up. There's nothing left except that little part of my brain telling me not to ignore what happened and to talk about it instead. But what do you do when you feel down and depressed? Eat.

Duh.

So that's why we're in the supermarket, shopping for food. Jacob is pushing the cart down the first aisle while I walk beside him scanning through all the goods stacked on shelves.

I laugh at his question. "Jake, I'm Charlie's daughter. I think he'd like disown me or something if I told him I was a vegetarian."

He laughs right back. All of the earlier tension has been sealed and locked away waiting for later discussion.

"Phew, I mean I'm sorry, but I couldn't hang around with you if you were," he says casually. I look up at him, raising an eyebrow along with an amused smile. "My friends would murder me if they knew I was hanging around with a… a _bean-eater_." His expression make him look completely serious, and with that, plus what he has just said, I can't help but laugh.

Some other customers start staring at me while they explore the rest of the aisle. But all I can do is laugh. Jacob stops and waits for me to catch my breath as I have doubled over in the middle of the aisle. I look up and he's chuckling silently at the sight in front of him.

"What's so funny?" he asks, smirking.

"You… your face… what you just said," I say as my giggles finally settle down. He smiles lightly even though I've probably just made him look crazy in front of these people.

We walk down all the other aisles, grabbing whatever looks good and dropping it into the cart. We're walking around and chatting about normal things, like normal people do. And it's weird because I haven't had a conversation like this in years. Except with Alice. That girl always seems to be the 'exception'.

There's lots of junk food filling up the cart, and so I chuck some packets of vegetables in there too. Jacob grabs some cokes and root beer. I hate them, but I nod when he asks if he should buy them. Our cart is almost half full of stuff we don't particularly need but _want _instead.

We make our way to the checkout soon after. Jacob picks up a bar of chocolate off the candy shelf and places it in the cart. He tells me to get myself one. I don't want to look rude so I grab a bar too. He looks at the magazines next to us so thankfully he doesn't realize that I picked the same bar as him; taking the easy way out. I don't eat chocolate. But he'll ask questions if I tell him that, so I keep my mouth shut.

We wait in line for the checkout counter behind an old lady who is placing the last of her groceries onto the belt. I try to stifle a yawn. Its mid-afternoon and I already feel as though it's hours past my bedtime.

"Jacob!" a voice calls out behind us. We both turn toward the direction of the voice and Jacob's face visibly lights up.

A tall, blonde haired man walks toward us holding a basket full of shopping. He's wearing a black suit and shiny shoes, looking smart and professional.

"How are you doing, Jake?" the man says as he reaches us. He leans forward and pats Jake on the back in a manly hug.

"Hey! I'm good Carlisle, you?"

"I'm good too, thank you… and who's this pretty girl?" he asks, winking at Jacob with a playful smile. Jacob chuckles quietly as I feel the heat rise up to my cheeks.

"This is Bella, Chief Swan's daughter. The town's new arrival," Jacob announces as I feel a shudder rip through me. Ugh, I hate attention. "And this is Doctor Carlisle Cullen; he treated my mom in her final few weeks," he says, gesturing between us both. He looks almost proud of Carlisle.

We both smile at each other and he holds a hand out to me. I shake it. "Nice to meet you, Doctor Cullen," I say quietly, a shy smile forming on my face. He replies the same greeting back to me and looks back at Jacob.

"So, how's your ballgame going?"

"It's good. Another game next week. We've got some pretty strong players this season," Jacob says while nodding.

Jacob plays ball? _Shit._ Does that mean he's one of the jocks at school? One of the popular guys?

"You play ball?" I ask interrupting their conversation.

He nods at me. "Yeah, basketball_, _and I'm captain." He grins and both of them look so proud.

_I_ should be proud of him. But he's captain on a varsity team. I'm not one of his 'gang'. He says he'll look out for me, but he hasn't realized that it was guys like him who made my life hell in Phoenix.

"Oh, I didn't know. Congrats," I mumble as I attempt a smile. It's fake, but I don't think either of them can tell. I turn away and focus on placing our items onto the conveyor belt.

If Carlisle had darker hair and Jacob wasn't so tan, it would be hard to distinguish if they were related or not. They have what look like such a father-son relationship. They seem comfortable. I feel in the way.

The fact that Carlisle is the doctor of this small town doesn't skip my attention. _He _is the one I should be avoiding. If anyone can break me down it'll be him. If I let alone trip and end up in the ER, he will be the one to see the cuts and the bruises. He'll be the one to ring my dad, but I'll be the one that has to explain. Those marks, they're my marks, my private marks that only I should get to see or feel. They're my pain; not his, not Jacob's, and definitely not my father's.

The lady in front has finished packing her shopping bags and leaves. I take the job of packing the bags on the other side while Jacob and Carlisle have a conversation between themselves. I just hope, for God's sake, that Jacob doesn't say anything about earlier. I'm pretty sure he won't, but the anxiety is still there.

"That'll be a total of forty three dollars and fifty cents," the check out girl says. She looks way too bored and tired to be here.

Jacob pays and we say a quick farewell to Carlisle. He waves to me too and I smile back, before looking at the floor and pushing the trolley toward the exit. I'm not trying to be impolite, but my nerves are all over the place and I just have to get out of here. I have to get some alone time. I need to think and the supermarket isn't really the place for that.

_**~LLWD~**_

"So is he hot?" Alice asks in her usual bubbly voice. It's been less than an hour since we left Jacob and Billy's house, and already Alice has called me to try and get some new gossip.

I laugh and roll my eyes even though I know she can't see me. "He's alright I guess, but not my type."

"What _is_ your type?"

_What __is __my __type? _I ask myself.

I don't have the faintest idea. I've never even been kissed by a guy, let alone have any sort of relationship with one. Jacob was one of the few boys I knew growing up and ever since I had moved to Phoenix, boys were just foreign objects that bullied me most of the time. Alice and I never really have the 'average teenage girl' conversations. We rarely speak about boys or sex. I was too scared to think, let alone say, if I thought they were good looking or not. Most of the time, if they caught me looking at them, I would get a '_why __the __fuck __is __that __freak __staring __at __me__'_ look returned to me. In my world it is better to just stay invisible rather than be embarrassed.

Alice of course, is much more girly and feminine than me. She isn't like the cheerleaders with a second skin of make-up, but she definitely isn't completely oblivious to the way she looks. I never really care much about looks, but Alice does. She likes boys way more than I do.

I haven't really thought about boys a lot. So why does her question feel so loaded? Why, out of everything she has already asked, is this the question that makes me really think?

"I don't know, Alice. I'd rather just concentrate on my work rather than boys." I sigh down the phone.

"That's a load of crap and you know it Bella." She scoffs loudly. Since when has she been _this_ interested in boys? "Come on, you're the new girl at school, no one knows about you or your past. You can start fresh and be the new topic of the school for a few weeks. It's almost every girl's dream. You'll be like fresh meat, they'll all want you. Plus, you're naturally beautiful, so you'll have boys all over you if you just have the confidence to speak to them."

"Well maybe that's the problem," I whisper as I sink further into the bed.

"What is?"

"I don't _have_ any confidence."

That seems to silence her. I fiddle with the ends of my hair as I wait for her to speak again. I can almost hearher breathing as she thinks.

"Alice, forget about it. I doubt it's going to be much different than Phoenix anyway." I sigh.

"Well let's hope not," she says hopefully. "Hell, if it _is_ good, maybe I could convince my parents to move up there too!"

I laugh at her childish, hopeful voice. "Al, you hate the rain."

"Oh yeah." Her voice drops dramatically as she remembers. "But so do you, and you're still up there."

"It's a completely different situation." I laugh at how blonde she sounds. What's wrong with her today?

"Sorry, I'm tired. Can't think straight," she mumbles. I can hear her yawn on the other end of the line and it makes me yawn too. I need to get some proper sleep. "So are you missing the sun?" she asks.

"Hell yes. I think I'm getting withdrawal symptoms."

Out of the gap in my curtains, I can see the rain pouring down in streaks. I can hear it above me on the roof. _No __chance __of __a __good__night__'__s __sleep __I __guess._

"Oh, well the weather is lovely here," Alice chirps brightly.

"Thanks for making me feel better, Al," I mumble sarcastically.

"Sorry," she says before yawning again. "Anyway, I better go to sleep. I'm way too ink-o-her-rent to speak right now."

Poor girl can't even pronounce her words right. And I thought Iwas the tired one.

"It's _incoherent_," I say trying to stifle my laugh.

"I told you I was tired. Night Bells," she mutters quietly. "Good luck tomorrow. Text me!"

"I will, and have fun at school without me. Night," I reply.

She doesn't answer me back but the line doesn't cut off. I can only guess that she's already fallen asleep. I press the end call button and place the phone on the bed side table. I get up and brush my teeth in the bathroom next door. I can hear the TV on downstairs and I presume Charlie is down there watching it.

"Night Charlie!" I yell from the top of the stairs. I hear him shout the same back to me, and so I go back to my room and snuggle under my covers.

There is an alarm set for 5 a.m. I hate waking up early for school on my first day, but it'd be worse if I had to turn up late and watch everyone stare at me.

I snuggle into one pillow and pull the other one over my head, trying to block out the noise of the rain above me.

I toss and turn, trying to relax. It doesn't work of course. The rain and the worries about tomorrow bring a new wave of insomnia.

I hear Charlie heading to his room around eleven. I'm still awake, my eyes are shut but I'm still very much conscious. The clock on the opposite wall of my room ticks by. It seems louder and louder the longer I listen to it. The rain is still heavily pelting against the window and the roof, but none of that is keeping me from sleeping.

It's my mind running crazily through every single outcome which could happen tomorrow. It's all in my head but I can't help but feel as though it's all going to happen. I can't calm it down and relax.

I haven't cut myself though.

It helps me to calm down. It usually exhausts me and reminds me that I actually have one thing that I'm in control of. But it's too late. Charlie is already asleep and he'll realize something is wrong if I turn the shower on at this time of night. I'm scared of him finding out and sending me to talk to someone. I don't want to speak to anyone.

_I just want to sleep._

The tears fall as the frustration of thinking about another sleepless night overwhelms me. Maybe the tears will wear me out?

I cry into my pillow, tugging on my brown hair that needs washing.

Crying makes me feel weak, vulnerable and childish. Today, too many tears have slipped from my eyes and I feel as though my usual strong composure that I have around people is slipping, fading almost.

'_Maybe __that__'__s __the __problem... __I __don__'__t __have __any __confidence.__' _

I've never believed my own words until today. The fact that even Alice didn't disagree with them made me finally believe they were true. We both know they were.

That thought alone makes the tears drop faster, but they serve their purpose well. Finally, I fall into a dreamless sleep.

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><p><strong>Will try to update within 2 weeks. Off on holiday for the week! See ya soon :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 3

**Thanks to the lovely lulabelle98 for beta-ing. She's absolutely amazing so go check out her drabble! And thanks to Mira18ish for pre-reading. :) *hugs***

**Sorry for the delay in updating! Shorter chapters from here on out so quicker updates that way. **

**I own nothing, like usual. **

**Tell me what you thought about Breaking Dawn! And happy thanksgiving to all who celebrate it. :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 3 <strong>

Do you ever feel as though you're in one of those nightmares where every move is the wrong one? As though you're being chased and running for your life?

You always see those scenes where the poor victim looks back every now and then as they run from the villain. Sweat drips down their face with a petrified expression as they gasp for what could be one of their last breaths. They're terrified that they're seconds away from being killed.

Of course, no big money-making blockbuster produces a scene like that without the victim finally getting caught, trapped at a dead end, or even just turning their head to find another bad guy standing right in their path.

It always ends up like that, right? Unless it's one of those superhero films where they magically get saved by shooting spider webs or a flying disks. I mean, seriously. We're talking about real life here. You only get that extra life line with idealism and fantasy. This isn't a 'superheroes and easy escapes' sort of life. This is legs running and hearts beating; no made up crap involved.

In reality, there's only life or death. Most probably the latter of the two.

Since the age of seven, I've been having these recurring nightmares. Most nights they appear, and the plot is always unchanged. I try to capture a glimpse at the hunter's face, but it's merely a blurred vision; just a figure following me at speed. I run too, scared of being caught. But however fast I run, or whichever path I sprint down, it always ends the same way.

I always fall.

_**~LLWD~**_

"Morning sleepyhead," Charlie yells, or at least it sounds like he is. I walk into the kitchen, my bare feet padding against the cold tiles. He stands by the counter where the toaster is with his back to me. He's already in his work uniform; dark blue slacks and a white non-creased shirt. He even has polished shoes on which shocks me.

I groan at his loud voice as I rub at my eyes with my fist, and open the fridge. I feel like a little five-year-old who's just woken up, waiting for breakfast to be served. But obviously, I shouldn't rely on Charlie to cook my food, unless I want burnt cardboard first thing in the morning.

I pour myself some orange juice and look up at him. He's cutting bread, or trying to at least. He has a knife and a loaf in front of him and there's even tub of butter. But he seems to be contemplating every action as though he has no clue what he's doing. His eyes skip to the toaster and he starts to fiddle with it, pressing the pop-up tab down and up again. He turns the timer and it starts, and of course _that_ makes him jump. He scratches his forehead as he looks around for the knife again.

I should probably laugh at his poor attempt of what isn't even considered cooking. But I think he's going to endanger himself if I don't step in soon.

"What are you doing?" I ask, gently nudging him out of the way.

He looks at me with a huge grin and there's a hint of embarrassment in his eyes.

"I was making toast for you."

I nod my head in amusement as I get to work on making Charlie and I breakfast without any hassle. He ruffles my already knotted hair as he backs away from the counter. There's no chance of amputated fingers or butter flying across the room. I manage to safely place two slices of bread in the toaster without any injury or mess.

Once it pops up, I butter our toast and hand him a piece. I look at him and he's smiling sheepishly back at me. I roll my eyes as he takes the toast and starts eating it greedily.

Toast in one hand, he scratches the back of his neck with the other. "Big day ahead, Bells."

Thanks for reminding me Charlie.

_**~LLWD~**_

"Your first class is here in the English building with Mr. Banner," the lady says. She circles a yellow rectangle on the map and pushes it forward so I can see.

My eyes widen as I make out the English block on the paper. It's in the middle of all the other buildings. Great, I get to walk past all the staring eyes before I even have my first class.

And the school is probably ten acres smaller than Phoenix.

_At__least__you__won__'__t__get__lost,_that tiny positive part of my brain - that I hardly ever see nowadays - reminds me.

It's just before eight and I'm in the school office. The scent of coffee hangs in the room, clearly from the half a dozen mugs plotted on the secretary's desks. There's another student sitting on the couch with headphones in, thankfully completely oblivious to me and the rest of the world it seems. A phone in the connected room rings and one of the secretary's chase after it, finishing the call seconds after it's even started. Paper is literally flying out of the printer and almost a hundred piles of the stuff are stacked behind the reception desks. It's like they've cut a forest down or something.

"If you ask one of the other students, then I'm sure they can show you around at some point during the day. Any problems with your timetable or classes, just come back here and we'll try and sort something out for you." She smiles at me as she grabs a few more papers and passes me them. "Any questions?"

I shake my head and she asks me to fill some forms out. Before I get the chance to grasp the fact that I have my first class in less than ten minutes, I'm out of the door and into the freezing cold air on the search for the English building.

_**~LLWD~**_

The school grounds are buzzing with students now as everyone makes their way to their first lesson of the day. No one speaks to me as I slowly walk toward the English block, my head lowered as I keep my eyes on the map in my hands like a tourist. People give me looks but no one bothers to introduce themselves. Not like I care, I'm used to it.

I find my class and walk into a room where ten people are sitting on desks and chairs chatting away. There's no sign of a teacher yet, so I enter quietly and sit down at the desk placed furthest away from the front. I pull a notepad out of my bag along with my pencil case to try and make myself appear less lost. More students flood in, but I don't pay attention to them and they don't acknowledge me. Though I'm sure they're all gossiping about me anyway. They judge me before they even know me, and that's why I'm better off alone.

The bell finally rings, signaling the start of period one. I look up and see that everyone is finally settling down in their seats. There's a boy with glasses on my right. He's already hunched over a notebook and scribbling in it too. I guess he's a 'nobody' like me. To my left, a guy is unpacking his bag and placing his books on the desk. His short blonde hair is wavy. The girl in front is still whispering to the blonde on her right, but the teacher who has now suddenly appeared notices her distraction.

"The bell has rung, Tanya. Is there anything you or Miss Mallory would like to share with us?" he questions in a stern voice.

She looks up at him, flipping her wavy hair behind her shoulder as though she's some sort of princess. She shakes her head, but mutters something under her breath which makes the girl beside her try to stifle a laugh. He walks over to his desk and places his mug, of what I assume is coffee, down. He looks at something on his desk and then raises it up, locking eyes with mine.

Damn it. I know what's coming next.

"And can we all welcome the new student in the class, Isabella Swan." He says my full name and I hate it. I'm _Bella_ and I always have been. "I hope you all make her feel at home and welcome here at Forks high," he says, smiling at me, though I'm pretty sure he intends to embarrass me.

I look down at my desk and immediately regret taking a seat at the back of the class where I can see everyone turn around to stare. I feel my cheeks start to flush a crimson color. My hair is thankfully hanging around my face, hopefully hiding my embarrassment from the rest of the crowd. I can't look up. I don't want to. But of course no one cares if they're being rude or embarrassing me, it's all just about the torture.

"Okay, eyes front people. We will continue to analyze the Frost poem we started last lesson." Slowly, everyone turns their eyes back to Mr. Banner. He talks non-stop, and I swear he doesn't take a single breath. I breathe out a sigh of relief once the attention disappears from me.

Finally, after what seems like a decade later, the bell rings. I pick up my books and shove them under my arms. The map is on top, just so I don't get lost on the way. Corridors buzzing full of students have returned. People barge their way past me, knocking me into others who also push me away. Someone grabs me from behind before I can fall.

"Whoa, there girl!" I turn around to come face to face with the guy who I sat next to in English. The blonde one, not the nerd. "You're the new girl, right? Isabella?" His deeply accented voice questions.

"Just Bella."

"Nice name. I'm Jasper. I sat next to you in English, right?" It sounds rhetorical but I nod anyway. "What class do you have next?"

"Math," I mumble, looking down at my timetable. I hate Monday's already.

"I'm heading that way. Can I walk with you?"

I just nod, like I have done for the whole conversation. He probably thinks I'm boring and will hopefully leave me alone soon. But he doesn't. He's still tagging beside me while I make my way around the school campus.

"So, why did you move back here?" he asks. It's the first thing either of us have said, and yet one of the hardest questions to answer.

I don't want him to think I'm antisocial. But how am I meant to answer that? "Personal reasons." I shrug.

He nods as though he understands. Except he doesn't, he's just trying to be friendly.

"This is the math block," he says, pushing a door to another corridor open. "I'll see you round soon, Bella."

I smile and nod in return. And he's gone.

Math is better than English. Our teacher, Ms. Goff, actually gives us some work on algebra rather than making us listen to her drone on and on. _And_ she doesn't introduce me in front of the whole class which is obviously a bonus. Of course people still know I'm new, but thankfully no one seems to make a big deal of it.

Angela and Eric sit next to me. They're friendly and not overly pushy, which makes me feel welcome. Angela advises me about who I should hang around with, and who I shouldn't. She mentions the basketball players being the only jocks who are actually safe to be around. I smile. Jake's a good guy. I don't learn much, but get loaded with a pile of homework which is Ms. Goff's way of making sure we actually do _something._

"We have PE together." Angela smiles, looking up from my timetable. "Do you like sports?" I'm shaking my head no before she even finishes the question.

She laughs at my reaction. "Neither do I. I usually just watch."

"I might join you," I confess. She smiles at me and I smile back. It's weird because it doesn't feel fake or real.

It may not be an 'Alice' smile, but it still feels... _natural?_

_**~LLWD~**_

Lunch comes around soon enough. I bump into Jake on the way to the cafeteria and he asks me to join him and his friends. I do, but it's incredibly awkward. Four well built, humungous teenagers are enough to intimidate anyone, right?

The cafeteria is packed full of students, each 'group' on their own table. I see Angela, Eric and Jasper all sitting on the same table with another boy and girl. Angela looks over and her eyes immediately widen. She furrows her brow while plastering a questioning look upon her face. I know what she's thinking. Half the people in the room are probably thinking it too. _Why __the __hell __is __the __new __girl __sitting __with __the __basketball __team?_ Well, fuck if I know.

"So Bella, you coming to watch our game tomorrow night?" the _really_ tall guy asks. I think his name is Jared. Or maybe it's Paul? Anyway he's _huge. _He could probably put a bear to shame with muscles like that.

The rest of lunch revolves around everything and anything basketball. I stay quiet. Jacob doesn't push me to interact. He's slowly figuring out my limits and that makes me feel relieved. He tries to convince me to go to his basketball game, but I tell him I don't know anyone and so I'll be standing alone. Once again he doesn't push it or argue. He just nods and starts a new topic of conversation to which the boys follow like little puppies.

He wants me to watch him and I turn him down. It's my natural instinct to push people away.

Fuck you, Bella.

Fuck you.


	5. Chapter 4

**As per usual, thanks go out to lulabelle98 for beta-ing. This would suck without you! And thanks to mira19ish for pre-reading. ****Big hugs to both of you girlies!**

**I've had this chapter ready for a week, but been away and haven't been able to post! **

**So enjoy...**

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

"Ah, you must be Bella Swan!" Mr. Green exclaims as I walk through the door.

It's cold, not surprising for Forks, but even inside I feel as though I should be wrapped in a scarf with my hands shoved into a pair of gloves. I'm the last to enter the lab, but thankfully he keeps our welcoming private rather than introducing me to the whole class.

Everyone is already sitting at their desks in pairs. He points me to the one remaining seat next to a bronze haired boy chatting vigorously to the guy next to him, as well as the guys on the desk beside him. I walk to the back of the classroom and place my bag on the desk before slipping onto the stool. I pull out my notebook and start drawing. It takes less than a minute before I'm interrupted.

"Aye Cullen, new girl alert!" I can't see them and I don't want to look up, but it's obvious they're talking about me. Of course 'Cullen' turns his torso around to face me. I don't look at him.

_Eyes __down __Bella. __Focus __on __your __work._

"Huh? New girl?" He elbows me sharply. I look up and he's smirking at me. "You up for it?" He raises his eyebrows and winks. I look at the others. All of their eyes are fixated on me. It's highly intimidating to say the least. There are four of them, each with their own bulging biceps and matching bodies.

And Jake's friends? Yeah, they've got nothing on these guys. These guys are _huge_.

"Up for what?" I can barely hear the question escape my mouth. But apparently _they_ can.

Laughter explodes through the room and I don't get an answer to my apparently stupid question. I turn back to my book and try to ignore the snickers and jokes I can hear being made about me.

"What's she writing in there?" one of them whispers.

"Pass it over here! We want to see!" another murmurs.

I close the notebook and stuff it in my bag, not giving them the opportunity to see my face or the paper.

For the remainder of the lesson, I listen to Mr. Green lecture us about microorganisms. I don't listen to anything, but his voice distracts me enough to keep me from walking out of the door and away from this hellhole.

The bell finally rings, but that's not enough for them. Mr. Green is still at his desk while people start to leave for the final lesson of the day. He doesn't notice the pushing and shoving that causes me to literally fall over the threshold into the corridor. They laugh at me as I grab my bag tighter, closer to my chest. The sound echoes through the hallway as they walk away as a group, Cullen leading.

_I__don__'__t__care,_I have to keep reminding myself. _I __don__'__t __care._

But now I'm lying to myself, because the truth is, I do.

Who wouldn't?

_**~LLWD~**_

We're supposed to be running laps like everyone else, but Angela is my hero and has gotten us excused from the class. The bleachers are our seats for the afternoon as we watch the other fifty students double over in pain during their warm up.

"That's the football team over there." Angela points to the middle of the field where a cluster of boys are stretching.

My eyes try to focus in on them, but they're too far away. Not that I'd know anyone anyway.

"You coming tomorrow?" she asks, still looking at them.

"No, I can't. Charlie wants me to unpack my stuff and go out to dinner with him," I lie.

"Jake's playing though. I'm sure he'd like someone to go cheer him on." She looks at me and makes a puppy dog face, pleading with me. "And from what I saw at lunch, you two seem to be pretty close," she says through her soft laughs.

I shrug. I don't see him as anything more than a friend. "He's just my neighbor, nothing more." She rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything else. I decide to change the subject to divert her from the 'Jake' topic.

"Who are they?" I ask, pointing toward six girls standing by the side of the track.

She grimaces. "Rosalie, Jane and Kate are the ones on the left. They each have a guy on the football team and that makes them popular. You get me?" I nod. "They're actually pretty nice sometimes. I have Sociology with Rose and Kate. They're not bitches."

She leans back and laughs humorlessly. "Irina, Tanya and Lauren on the other hand are the ones you have to look out for. They're the ones on the right. They _wish_ they had a guy on the football team. But let's just say I have more of a chance of flying to the moon than they do of getting one of those guys into bed."

I nod in understanding. Tanya and Lauren were the ones who sat in front of me in English. Definitely not my type of crowd.

"They're hot, aren't they?" she asks. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin in her palm, staring into the distance.

"The football team?" I ask.

She nods without dropping her gaze. "Yeah, I mean, Edward is freaking good-looking, don't you think?"

"You know it's my first day here. Which one is Edward?"

She turns around and furrows her brow. "You sat next to him in Biology from what I was told. Edward Cullen?"

Ahh. The infamous 'Cullen'. "Oh yeah." That's all I have to say about him.

She sits back up and laughs. "You didn't answer my question though! He's hot, right?" She nudges me but I don't answer.

I look out toward the boys now running up and down the field. His bronze messed up hair is still chaotic. I can tell that from all the way back here. His muscles look rippled, but he's not the biggest. He scratches the back of his neck as the group walk toward the coach. They finish their practice and Edward starts to walk back to the sidelines. He looks up, and for the shortest amount of time, our eyes catch. He looks away less than a second later to where Lauren and Tanya are standing. He walks over and I'm forgotten about. Both Angela and I snap back to reality once we see who he's now with.

"He looked at us," she states quietly. She doesn't sound over-exited or disappointed, she's just pointing out the obvious.

"And we made no impact." My voice is dull but not because I'm disappointed; I'm just used to feeling bypassed.

"Yeah well... I guess looks _aren__'__t_ everything."

And she's right.

_**~LLWD~**_

Tuesday. Another settling in day for me. I'm given a ton of work in each lesson; catch-up work that the school is piling me up with in case I've missed anything. I sit with Angela and Jasper at lunch, Jacob nowhere to be seen.

He wins his basketball match, and the whole school is buzzing on Wednesday from the win. He shoots, he scores and everyone cheers. Everyone except me.

I congratulate him later in the day when bumping into him in the corridor. He smiles and nods, but it doesn't reach his eyes. No words come from his mouth as he leaves me for his teammates, jogging down the hallway to catch up with them. I don't blame him.

Today is worse than Tuesday, mainly because I have Biology again. Edward ignores me fully this time, and usually I don't care about the ignorance as much as I do about the teasing. But he knows I'm here and isn't even acknowledging me. That's why I'm pissed. His back faces me the whole lesson, and I don't even catch a glimpse of his face. He talks nonstop to his friends and I seriously start to wander how he gets away with it. I don't know and I'm not going to ask, but I'm surely not learning anything. I leave school annoyed and frustrated.

Charlie is working night shifts all week. Alice rings around nine. She's upset and I tell her to suck it up. She says she saw Renée at the store today and was given the evils. I tell her to get used to it. She asks what's wrong with me, that I'm not myself. I give her a sarcastic reply about how everything is absolutely perfect. And now I'm pushing her away.

She doesn't say goodbye before she hangs up.

I try to sleep, but unconsciousness doesn't find me. Water and tiles and razors with sharp blades on the other hand, do. More tears fall and I don't have the energy to stop them. More blood drips and I don't even attempt to catch it. The pain is there again and my eyes are closed. The rusty metal smell hangs in the bathroom, and I've never been more grateful to have the house to myself. The blood runs down the drain, washing away some of the pain along with it.

I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. I've pissed off Alice, I've upset Jake and I'm not fitting in at school. Worst of all, I've just gone back to my old ways. I'm running round in circles and there's no end.

_What__am__I__trying__to__do?_ I ask myself. But I don't know.

_Why__am__I__doing__it?_ I can't answer that one either.

_Then__what__'__s__the__point,__Bella?_

God, how I wish I knew.

_**~LLWD~**_

I make a list of things to sort through. Alice is at the top of it. I ring her and we sort it out surprisingly quickly. I play off an excuse that it's the time of the month and she believes me without too many questions. We're back to normal, or whatever you call this friendship. It's the lack of sleep and the biology boy that is pissing me off, not her, and I make sure she knows that.

_**~LLWD~**_

Friday comes along before I know it.

A whole week and it's all changed.

School is the same as it started. Neither Edward nor any of his friends are in Biology as they have extra football practice. I have no clue why they practice so much outside season time, but it doesn't bother me. I'm relieved and I finally get some freaking work done. Who knew what you could learn when someone isn't messing with your mind the whole time?

Jake eats lunch at our table today. Jasper arranges for us all to go to the theatre. They all look hopeful, and to be honest I have no reason _not_ to go. Jake offers me a lift and I willingly take it, which gets me a few looks thrown across the table from Angela. I roll my eyes and continue eating my food. She doesn't drop it though.

"I'll see you tonight, Bella. Have fun with Jake." She winks at the end of the day. She knows he's only giving me a lift but of course has to add to it. I wave to her as we walk our separate ways.

It's cold, busy too. I see the football players practicing on my way out of campus. No one notices me as I stand on the sidewalk and watch for a few minutes. At one point, one of the bigger guys looks straight in my direction; my cue to leave, and his cue to laugh at me. I faintly hear him shout something, and from the corner of my eye I see another figure on the pitch turn to look at me. It's Edward. I don't even have to look at him directly to recognize the bronze colored patch of hair that sticks out a mile away.

I don't want to be known as the freak who stares at the football team all the time. So instead, my feet walk quicker as I try to get away.

_**~LLWD~**_

"So, will I be spending the rest of the season trying to convince you to come watch me play?" Jake laughs as we pull into the theatre's parking lot.

I smile at his gentle humor and roll my eyes. "Maybe." I shrug, looking out at the others who have already gathered outside the entrance.

"Not a big sports fan?"

I shake my head and scoff loudly. "Ha! Definitely not."

He nudges me before parking the car. The engine shuts off and he turns his upper body so it faces toward me. "Well, you're going to love it next week. There's a football match at school, rare for this time of year." He smiles mischievously. _What __is __he __thinking? _"And I'm dragging you along, whether you like it or not."

Jake jumps out of the car and slams his door. By the time I open mine, he's standing right beside me. "So, you game?" he asks.

I shrug, "maybe."

"Come on, Bella. It's going to be a big one. Ninety-nine percent of the town are gonna be turning up. Rumor has it that talent scouts are coming down just for the match. Everyone's eyes are on the prize. It's going to be a good game." He presses the lock button on his keys and walks away from the Volkswagen. I have to walk faster than usual to keep up with him.

"What's the prize?" I ask as we reach the others.

He laughs softly. "You'll see."


	6. Chapter 5

**Hello strangers! So yes, it's been over a month since I've last updated *hides in corner* but finally, I've had time to write and post! :):)**

**Millions of TYs to lulabelle98 for beta-ing and ****My_R Cullen for prereading :) ******

******Hope you all had a fantastic Christmas and New Year!******

******Enjoy. :)******

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><p><strong><strong><strong>Chapter 5.<strong>****

"That was amazing, probably the best one so far," Angela says, her cheeks puffed out full of popcorn. We walk out of the movie theatre after two hours of watching Shrek the Third and I'm starting to feel the effects of suffering a numb-bum. She's holding onto the bucket which contains the remains of the popcorn, although there won't be much left soon at the rate she's eating it.

To say I love Shrek would be an understatement. Some animated films I can't stand, but Shrek will forever be my childhood guilty pleasure – however old I am.

Riley and I used to watch it when we were younger. We used to sit on the floor in the living room and stuff our faces full of candy until one of us threw up. I remember looking at Princess Fiona and wondering if I was going to grow up to be like her. Not as an ogre, that's probably any girl's worst nightmare, but to have someone love me for who I am; flaws and all.

"You have got to be kidding me, girl. The first film was ace, hence why the others don't compare," Tyler argues. "It won a damn Oscar, for God's sake!"

Everyone goes quiet, staring blankly at him.

"How do you even remember that? The first one came out ages ago." Jasper chuckles, rolling his eyes.

"It came out in 2001. I saw it on my eleventh birthday... Best day of my life."

Laughter erupts from us all at his childish behaviour and I hear Jake mutter "idiot" next to me.

"Can we eat?" he asks, ignoring their Shrek conversation and pushing his way through our small crowd.

Before anyone answers, he's already leading the group toward a small bistro at the other end of the street.

"Bella Italia," I whisper once I catch up with him.

He looks down at me and smiles lightly, only half of his face illuminated from the moonlight. "Beautiful Italy."

**~LLWD~**

It's warm, cosy and was probably pretty quiet until we came barging in. We're sitting at the back of the restaurant away from everyone else, on the biggest table they have. The lights are dimmed and the brown of the wood panelled walls makes the place feel homely and inviting. It's the sort of place you'd imagine a first date taking place, or a romantic valentine's meal being shared - definitely not a hangout for seven teenagers on a Friday night.

The place makes it vaguely look Italian, but the smell drifting in from kitchen definitely proves it. The heat blazing out from the fireplace reminds me of Phoenix; the warmth of the sun. We pull our coats off and I finally feel warm.

Huddled around the table, the bickering and chatting begins. No wander we were seated away from everyone else. We're _so_ loud.

The waitress comes over and takes our drinks orders. She's blonde and her dress is more like a shirt. It's short, very short. Of course the boys are all eyes while Angela, Jess and I roll ours.

"She looked like Tanya," Angela scoffs once the waitress disappears. I laugh because it's true though I'm sure Tanya's shirt is usually even shorter than that. The rest of the group agree, though Eric just shrugs and says she looks hot.

"Talking of Tanya, did you hear about her and Cullen?" Jasper asks, resting his arms on the table and leaning in.

I freeze as he starts speaking. Everyone listens to what he has to say, and I'm just as intrigued as they are.

"Rosalie told me that Tanya told her that they made out with each other last week at Emmett's party. Apparently they were both off their heads drunk and she 'took advantage' of him," he says using his fingers to make invisible speech marks.

"But, I mean, it is Tanya. A lot of shit comes out of her mouth." Everyone nods in agreement.

The table falls quiet and Jake speaks for the first time since we came in. "And Edward... It's not like he doesn't have a rep of sleeping around," Jake states before glancing at me from the corner of his eye. I give him a confused look and he turns his attention back to his menu. What's he trying to infer?

It's silent again so I decide to speak up. "So how do you know Rosalie?" I ask Jasper.

"She's my sister. She's dating Emmett McCarty who's like best friends with Cullen and the rest of the football team. So I get a lot of the gossip from her." He laughs quietly.

He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped short when the waitress returns. He doesn't shut his mouth, instead he just gapes. It's quite amusing to watch them all stare at her like an animal at a zoo. Poor girl.

She's gone seconds after she arrived, providing hardly any conversation but enough to make the boys slip up with their hardly audible 'thanks'.

"You're all coming next Friday, right?" he asks the others once he's got his breath back. He looks around the table.

The whole group nod and Jake speaks up again, "Yeah, Bella's agreed to come too." He chuckles and winks at me.

"Sit with us, okay?" Angela says, nudging me.

"I don't even know if I'm going." I shy away, again.

"Oh come on, Bella. We're going. It's fun! We just look at the boys rather than watch the actual football." Jess laughs from across the table.

I smile timidly, looking at my clutched hands lying on my lap. "Okay."

Angela leans over to my shoulder, her face hiding away from the others. "Edward will be playing," she whispers quietly. I only just make out what she said. Once I finally comprehend her words, I choke on air. She starts laughing, backing away from me while I feel the heat rush to my face.

If only she knew how Edward and I really got on with each other, maybe then she'd get this freaky crush idea out of her head.

**~LLWD~**

"Thanks for the ride, Jake," I say as we pull up into his driveway back in Forks.

He turns to me across the centre console and smiles his cheeky grin. "Anytime."

The air turns still around us and silence echoes through the car. His smile drops faintly, making him look more serious and sensitive than he just was. We stay staring at each other, his eyes boring into mine. He keeps looking from one of my eyes to the other, as though he's searching for something inside of me that he can read. I don't want anything to happen, not in my first week, and definitely not with Jacob. He shifts in his seat and before he can get the nerve to make a move, I subtly lean back, breaking the eye contact. I shake my head, running my fingers through my hair, trying to get rid of the awkwardness.

"I better go. Charlie's going to wonder where I am," I tell him.

He nods, turning his head to look out of the windscreen. I take it as my time to leave, opening the door and gently jumping out. My arms automatically wrap around my chest, trying to keep some body heat in.

"Thanks for a great night." He ducks out of the car, smiling again. Hopefully our awkward moment is already forgotten in his mind.

"You too, Jake. See ya around." I smile back.

I turn around and run across the lawn to our almost identical house. The lights are all off when I open the door. Switching them on, I walk around the house, dropping my coat on the banister of the staircase.

"Charlie?" I call out. No answer.

"Dad?" I try again. But yet again, no one replies.

I walk into the kitchen and spot a note left on the counter.

_Bells, been called in to work to cover a night shift. Won't be back 'till 8am. Hope you had a good night! Stay safe._

_Dad._

Great. Home alone and it's dark. In an old house like this, it's not exactly as entertaining as you'd think. I grab a glass and fill it with water, chugging it down as soon as it's full.

I press the button named 'new message' on the landline's machine, waiting to hear the three missed calls.

"Message one. 15:44pm, today," the voice says. "Hey Charlie, its Billy. Are you free to meet up sometime this week? Fishing maybe? How's Bella settling in? Jake says they've been getting pretty close. Anyway, call me when you get this."

I skip to the next message, already bored.

"Message two. 17.56pm, today."

I open the medical cabinet on the search for some Tylenol, letting the second message play through the room.

"Chief. Cooper just called in. He's had to leave for a family emergency. Any chance you could take his shift tonight? Thanks."

I swallow the two small capsules down with another glass of water. The machine automatically sets it to play the last remaining message.

"Message three. 19:12pm, today."

I place the box back in the cabinet, yawning loudly. The oven timer tells me it's just past eleven, and for once I feel like going to bed before midnight.

"Chief Swan, its Dr. Cullen," the voice sounds out. I freeze. Did it just say Cullen? No, it didn't. Did it? I groan at my stupidity.

_He's a guy who hates you and you hate him... remember?_

The voice sounds out through the kitchen again, interrupting my internal argument. "I guess we're onto first name basis, huh? Anyway, Charlie, your results came through today. Call back as soon as possible and I'll go through them with you. It's quite important, so the sooner the better."

The message finishes and the final bleep sounds out. But only a very small proportion of my mind is concentrating on that. The rest is wondering why the hell Dr. Cullen rang and what tests he's referring too.

Charlie's fine. Isn't he?

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><p><strong>Reviews would be lovely ;)<strong>


	7. Chapter 6

**Idk what I'd do without lulabelle98 or My_R Cullen. Millions of thank yous to you both. xo**

**Enjoy :)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 6.<strong>

It's a quarter to eight on a Saturday morning and I'm already up, showered and dressed. Charlie got home half an hour ago after his night shift; the sight of him when he walked through the door had proven that it hadn't been a good night.

One thing I've learnt from Charlie is that he has a habit of tugging on his hair when he's agitated. He used to do it a lot when Riley and I messed around when we were younger, when he fought with Renée or when he had had a bad day at the station. I presume that's the cause of his disheveled brown hair sticking out in all directions today too. His usual smart and time-consuming hair style has been completely scrapped. It wasn't just his hair though. The skin under his eyes was also sagging from the lack of sleep, making him look ten years older than his real age. He looked like a mess, and probably felt like it too.

He admitted that he felt terrible as soon as he walked through the threshold, quickly excusing himself from the little 'welcome home, are you ill?_' _party I had set up for him, and headed upstairs for a shower instead.

"Morning, Bells," he says, making his way into the kitchen. "How was your night?"

His hair is no longer a tousled mess. Instead it's slicked back by water and completely flat. His eyes are still drooping.

"It was good. How about yours? You look exhausted." I stand up and pour us both some coffee.

"Yeah, it was long." He grabs a piece of toast off the side, the cup of coffee I've just poured and the newspaper from the counter. He sits down at the table and takes turns between eating and drinking, flipping through the thin pages of information at the same time.

"You had some voice messages left for you on the landline." I walk over to the machine and replay them for him without a second thought. I take a seat opposite him, sipping my own cup of the hot drink.

His eyes are down, still reading page after page of the newspaper. It seems as though he's not even listening to the recorded messages. That is until Dr Cullen's voice sounds out through the room. His whole body tenses, and I look up to see him staring blankly at the wall while the message continues to play.

He looks straight at me once the voicemail ends. His eyes soften and he gives me a small, sorrowful smile. He doesn't say anything. Instead he turns away from the table and walks heads toward the landline. He picks it up, dials a number and holds the phone by his right ear. I'm not usually one to pry or involve myself in other people's business, I myself hate it when people try to interfere with my own, but for some reason I don't leave or even pretend to be oblivious to his phone call.

"Dr Cullen... Yeah, I was wondering if you had a free appointment today..." He pauses, listening to Dr Cullen's response. He keeps fiddling with the collar of the brown polo he's wearing. He doesn't look at me or acknowledge the fact that I'm listening. I feel as though I'm intruding on something that I shouldn't. But he doesn't go out of his way to get rid of me.

"Okay, sure. I'll be there." He puts the receiver back down and drops his head a little. He whispers and nods to himself as though he's trying to convince himself of something. "I've... uhm," he mumbles before standing up straight and looking at me. "I've got an appointment at ten." He looks nervous, out of place.

He walks back to his chair and sits down, taking a sip of his coffee again. His enthusiasm for reading the newspaper has completely vanished.

"What test results?" I ask quietly.

"I've been having headaches for the past few weeks," he explains. "I had a CT scan and some tests run the week before you arrived. They say it's very unlikely it'll be anything significant or serious, but better to be safe than sorry. It was just a precaution," he insists.

"What could it be?"

"They don't know. I've rarely had them these past few days so I don't think there's anything to worry about. But like I said, it's just a precaution. I'm getting old." He gives a small laugh and chews his last piece of toast.

"I'll come with you."

"You don't have to, it's not that big of a deal," he replies. His gaze meets mine and I know he's lying. The flicker of hope in his brown pupils which wants me to come proves that it _is_ a big deal.

**~LLWD~**

"Charlie Swan," Charlie tells the receptionist at the front desk.

She types something into the computer before looking back up at him. "Sure, take a seat. Dr. Cullen will be ready in a few minutes."

The lady points us to the two rows of blue cushioned chairs lined up against the walls. There's a stack of magazines on the small coffee table near the window. An old woman is the only other person waiting to be seen. Other than that, it's empty and quiet. The walls are painted bleach white and the illuminate lighting makes it almost seem as though it's a midsummer's day. The color brightens the room but not in the sense where it makes everything happier. There are no pictures of flowers, babies or cute little puppies hanging on the walls. Instead there's 'nutritional advice_',_ 'the symptoms of meningitis_' _and other posters decorating the surrounding walls. The smell of antiseptics and sterile detergents linger in the air, and the background noise from the wards and offices along the corridors are just audible through the double-swing doors.

"Charlie Swan," Dr. Cullen says, walking through the doors which separate the waiting room from the rest of the hospital.

Charlie stands up beside me. "I shouldn't be long," he explains to me. "Don't go anywhere."

"Where do you expect me to go?" I laugh, trying to relax him.

"I'll see you soon."

"Good luck." I give him a small smile which he then returns.

He follows Dr. Cullen out of the waiting room and the room is quiet once again.

Minutes tick by without me realizing. The muffled sounds of voices from adjoining rooms and the annoying tapping of the receptionist's keyboard is all I can hear. I pick up one of the issues of _Women's Health_ from the table, flipping through it but nothing catching my attention. It feels awkward, sitting here doing nothing of convenience. The clock tells me he's been gone for fifteen minutes. I sigh, hoping its good news rather than bad.

The automatic entrance doors slide open. A boy strolls in with his eyes down focusing on his phone. The hood of his black sweatshirt is pulled over his head, stopping me from seeing his face, and his jeans fall loosely around his hips, hanging low enough to see the top of his boxers.

He walks over to the receptionist and leans on the counter.

"Is my dad free?" he asks. My body automatically tenses. I know that voice. Oh God.

I pick the magazine up again and pretend to read it, but my ears are still listening to the conversation commencing ten meters away.

"No, he's with a patient at the moment," she replies without looking up at him. He doesn't move, just stands there with his elbows placed on the counter and his chin resting in his palms. "Take a seat, Edward. I'm working." She huffs.

He stands up unwillingly, lifting his hands in the air to show he wasn't doing anything troublesome. He turns around and my eyes drop to the magazine once again, hoping that Charlie finishes in a few minutes. He walks toward me and I fight every ounce of desire to look up at him.

"Can I sit here?" He's speaking. I don't know if he's asking me or not, so I ignore him.

_Don't give him the attention he craves, Bella._

I flip the page, eyes boring into the first sentence over and over again but never absorbing the words. In the corner of my eye I see him move, and before I know it he's sitting right next to me. Out of all the chairs here, he has to pick this one.

"So, what you doing here?" he asks casually. I still don't look up, afraid of making eye contact with him. Why is he even talking to me? He slouches back in his chair and rests his hands behind his head.

"Just thought I'd chill at the hospital for the day." I shrug, my voice sounding sharper than intended.

"Is that a hint of sarcasm I sense in your voice?" he inquires with a laugh. "It's good to know you're not completely dull."

I close the magazine and place it on the table again, twisting my body to look at him. "What do you want?" I ask in a small voice.

His demeanor rapidly changes and it's noticeable in his eyes. The greenness in his pupils suddenly softens, the skin between his eyebrows creases, and his cocky smirk disappears. "I was just asking," he retorts defensively.

"Yeah, well thanks for your concern." Sarcasm fills my voice as I glare at him, wandering what he's doing here and why he's talking to me. I sigh in frustration and bite my tongue to stop myself from saying anything else.

"Why do you keep acting like-" he begins to ask, waving his hands around as though he can't find the right words, "-_that_?"

"Like what?"

"Like I'm an utter asshole, and you'd rather be sliced open than sitting here having a normalconversation with me," Edward says, watching me intently.

A small smile unconsciously appears on my face at his words. "You _are_ an utter asshole." I smirk, meeting his gaze as I look up at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches upward at my words. "How so?" he asks, laughing. He leans forward, and for once I feel as though he's finally listening to me.

I shake my head in disbelief. The conversation has changed so quickly, his attitude shifting at the same pace too. I don't answer. All sorts of words rolling through my head, but none of them manage to convey what I actually feel. He's waiting for an answer, but I think he knows he's not going to get one, possibly because he actually already knows it.

"Why do you hate me?" The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them. I can already guess the answer and I don't specifically want to hear it. His voice interrupts my thoughts.

"I don't hate you," he objects. The crease on his forehead reappears as he furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

"Then why do you act like… that?" I ask, using his words from earlier.

He doesn't need me to expand on the question. Instead, he hangs his head back and looks up at the tiled ceiling. He stays like that for a few seconds, then looks away and runs his left hand through his bronze hair. "I, uh… I think…" he mutters, stumbling over his words.

"You think what?"

He looks at me again, catching my gaze. His eyes are soft once more, a million words and thoughts floating inside of them. "You confound me." He frowns slightly, shaking his head as though that wasn't what he intended to say. "I just… I don't understand you. You're like an enigma."

Now _I_ don't understand _him_. "I'm confused now." I let out a small laugh trying to hide the awkwardness I feel.

A sound from across the room jolts us from our conversation. Charlie walks through the door, a smile on his face and some papers in his hands. Dr. Cullen is beside him, they're chatting and they both look… happy. That's good, right?

Charlie notices me, giving me a small wave and they both walk toward the front desk, speaking to the receptionist.

I stand up from my seat, but am stopped short by a tug on my arm. Edward turns me around so we're face to face. He's a few inches taller than me, making me feel small and vulnerable. I preferred it sitting down.

He's looking between both my eyes; his gaze is intense, as though he's searching for something. "I don't hate you. You're actually kind of… cute," he says, cracking a small smile.

"Cute?" I ask, raising an eyebrow and laughing. That's not what I was expecting. He nods, completely serious. I stare at him for a second, not knowing what to do or say. He thinks I'm cute? He laughs at my expression. "You're cute, but utterly confusing."

I shake my head._ He's_ the confusing one.

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><p><strong>Reviews are better than Edward calling you cute. ;)<strong>


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